


The Ten-Pound Challenge

by youwilllovemylaugh



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Belly Kink, Chubby Kink, Eating Kink, F/M, Oh god, and we all die, here we go again, jake eats a ten-pound burrito
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-18
Updated: 2016-04-18
Packaged: 2018-06-03 03:29:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6594814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youwilllovemylaugh/pseuds/youwilllovemylaugh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jake eats a ten-pound burrito and basically that's all you need to know.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Ten-Pound Challenge

On Friday, Amy snuck up behind Jake in the precinct’s file room. She slipped her arms around his soft waist, pressed her head in the spot between his shoulder blades.

“Guess who?” she said into his shirt.

“Sloane Farrow, fresh off a break up with Ferris Bueller and ready to party?” Jake guessed.

“Good guess, but no,” Amy said, and spun Jake around by his hips.

He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Ah, it’s you.”

Amy grinned at him, wrinkled her nose. “It’s me, and it’s also Friday.”

Jake’s brain lit up. “Friday, Friday, date night, that’s _right_.” He returned her smile. “What did you have in mind?”

“Who says I have anything in mind?”

Jake shrugged. “Well, you _are_ the one who found me in the back room of the precinct and put her hands all over my belly.”

He liked the blush that rose up on Amy’s cheeks. “Well,” Amy said, dragging out the syllables, “I did see an ad for this new Mexican place on the Park Slope side of Sunset Park.”

“Oh?”

Amy’s eyes traced the line of buttons down the center of Jake’s torso. “And maybe they have a challenge where you eat free if you finish their ten-pound burrito.”

Jake’s eyes widened. “Whaaaaat.”

Amy nodded vigorously and bit her lip. “Yeah.”

“What’s the challenge called?”

“It’s so new, it doesn’t even have a _name_ yet.”

“Wow. Free food _and_ a challenge,” Jake said. “It’s like it was made for us.”

“So, you wanna go over there after work?”

“Hell yeah, I do,” Jake said, and he leaned down to kiss her quickly before heading out to the main floor again.

Boyle was waiting for him at his desk when he returned. “I saw Amy head back there, just after you did,” he said, his whole body radiating with excitement like a nervous Chihuahua.

“Mhm,” Jake said, singsong, sitting down at his computer.

“Did she ask you out? Is she taking you to dinner?”

“We’re already dating, Boyle, and yes,” Jake said. “She is.”

“Oh!” His exclamation was uncomfortably high-pitched. He leaned forward on the desk. “Where are you going? What are you doing?”

Jake leaned back in his chair, stretched his arms, and folded his hands behind his head. “She’s taking me to some new Mexican place in Park Slope, I think?”

Boyle rattled off a list of restaurants, half of which sounded fake.

“I don’t know what it’s called,” Jake said. “Only that they serve ten-pound burritos that you get for free if you eat them all.”

Boyle recoiled in disgust. “Oh my _god_ what an atrocity.”

Amy walked past then, a file taken from the file room carefully placed under her arm.

“How could you bring Jake to a place that serves _ten-pound burritos_?” Boyle asked her.

She stopped in surprise, looked from Boyle to Jake. Jake tried to hide his laughter as she flustered. “Uh – well – it was new, so, you know,” she said, tugging her suit jacket down nervously, file still under her arm, “Gotta keep things spicy in your steady relationship.”

Jake nearly lost it at “spicy” – an unintentional, pun-based reference to Mexican food, even while flustered? she really _was_ perfect – but he had to turn back to his computer as soon as he processed “steady relationship” so she (and Boyle) wouldn’t see him blush.

Amy kept walking, and Boyle followed her. Jake opened his latest case file and slogged through it for the rest of the evening, pausing only to shoot rubber band bullets off his finger guns at Rosa when Terry’s back was turned.

At the end of the day, Jake waited for Amy to finish her paperwork outside the building. Gina motored out of there pretty quick, and Boyle wasn’t far behind her, but Rosa loitered, checking her phone as if waiting to figure out what to do next.

“Hey,” she said, sidling up to Jake, knocking him in the elbow with her fist. “I hear you’re going out with Amy tonight.”

“Yeah,” Jake said. “Gonna go eat us some burritos, drink some margaritas.”

“That new place in Park Slope? With the ten-pound burritos?”

Jake was astounded that so many people knew. “That’s the one.”

A text came through on Rosa’s phone, and she read it, a tight smile flying over her lips, before she looked back at Jake, and jutted her chin at him. “Go kill ’em, tiger.”

She started off toward the subway, and Jake called, “Thanks!” after her.

Amy came out next. “Are you ready to go?” She was tightening the belt on her trench coat, even though spring had come early, and the sun had warmed the streets to a comfortable temperature over the course of the day.

“Yep,” Jake said. She took his hand, and they got on the subway.

“Are you ready for this?” Amy asked, once they’d found a pole to stand near. Her hand was inside his open jacket, resting on the outward curve of his hip. In the last few months, since he’d been seeing Amy, his pants had gotten tighter, the buttons on his shirts had started straining across his belly in ways he hadn’t seen before. He didn’t mind it – he actually liked it quite a lot – but whenever Amy put her hands on him, anywhere on his midriff, it took him a minute to regain control of himself.

“Yeah, I am,” Jake said, breathless. He could feel the heat of her hand on his hip, and if he hadn’t been responsible for keeping both their balance on the rocking subway, he would have put his hand on top of hers, leaned forward into her so he could feel her body against his.

Amy smiled bashfully. “I know _I_ am.”

They got off the subway and walked a few blocks to the new place. It was tiny inside, one wall dominated by mural-sized paintings of traditional Mexican figures, and the other a deep clay red. The front wall was all windows, and the back was the silver kitchen, noisy underneath the thrumming guitars of mariachi music.

“Whoa,” Jake said when they entered. In the window inset in the front door was a poster displaying the burrito challenge, and he stared at it as Amy, fingers still threaded through his, got them a table.

“C’mon,” she said, tugging, as the waitress led them to a bar table, and Jake slid into a stool. He couldn’t get the image of the burrito – a whole foot long, at least five inches wide, drenched in sauce and cheese – out of his mind.

“Do you see this margarita menu?” Amy asked, her eyebrows twisted in happy surprise. “And everything comes frozen, too.”

“I don’t see anything but that burrito,” Jake said.

Amy’s eyes whipped up from the menu to meet his. “Oh?”

Jake nodded.

Amy shifted in her seat, took off her coat. “Wanna tell me about it?”

Jake cocked an eyebrow. “Tell you about it?”

“Yeah.”

“Like, that I’m going to eat the whole thing in the half-hour they allot or so help me god?”

He watched her roll her shoulders back, and then try to regain her composure. “Oh.”

The waitress arrived, and introduced herself. Amy ordered a passion fruit margarita, Jake got a regular one, and then Amy looked at him nervously before adding, “We’d also like to try the burrito special?”

The waitress looked from Amy to Jake and back. “Who? Only one of you can do it, or else it doesn’t count.”

Amy visibly swallowed. “Uh, he’s going to do it,” she said breathlessly, pointing at him. “Right, Jakey?”

He nodded. “I’ll do it. I’ve got a half-hour, right?”

“That’s if you want it for free,” the waitress said. She made a note on her pad. “Otherwise, it’s fifty bucks.”

“Fifty bucks,” Jake said, outraged. “You better have a wall prepped for champions, because I’m gonna be on it.”

The waitress was fighting a sardonic face; Jake could see it. “One massive burrito, and…?” She looked at Amy, who placed an order for enchiladas verdes, and then she left.

Jake grinned at her as he took a sip of his water. “You should get flustered more often,” he said.

“Huh?”

“It’s a good look for you.” He set his water glass down, and the waitress returned momentarily to drop a cup of salsa and a basket of chips on their table. “Very Amy-style.”

Amy sputtered over her next words, almost as if she were trying to defend herself. Jake only laughed.

“How long do you think it’ll take to cook such a monstrosity?” Jake asked, digging into the basket of chips.

“Uh, probably a while? I don’t know, I’m not good at timing culinary endeavors.”

The restaurant was pretty busy, so Jake estimated a half hour.

The burrito arrived in fifteen, and was delivered by a busboy who trailed behind their waitress.

“Good luck, man,” the guy said, as he dropped the burrito on the table with a satisfying _clunk_.

“Thanks,” Jake said. He rubbed his hands together as he looked at the massive burrito, heat rising off the cheese and the pool of sauce it sat in. He met Amy’s gaze, which was practically burning holes into his forehead. She was ablaze with possibility. “But I won’t need it.”

He took the fork out of his rolled up napkin, and, with a healthy swig of his margarita, dug into the burrito.

The first bite was hot, too hot to taste much. But it didn’t burn him, so he kept going, glancing up at Amy between bites, taking bigger and bigger forkfuls. He worked his way through the middle first, cutting through the soft tortilla beneath the red sauce with ease. The beans were seasoned perfectly, and the chicken was tender and easy to chew. It seemed that, the more he ate, the more he wanted to.

Every time he looked up at Amy, he saw a little more amazement in her eyes, a little brighter twinkle. He noticed that, in the time he’d eaten the soft middle bits, Amy had only barely touched her enchiladas for staring.

“Are you gonna eat, there, babe?” he asked, slowing down a little bit so as to be less intimidating.

“Uh, yeah, yeah,” she said, and picked up her fork with a limp hand, slid it under her rice and beans, and ate a bite.

He giggled, took a sip of his margarita. The alcohol had nearly no effect on him, except to create a warm feeling in his extremities.

And to fill his stomach. As soon as he put the glass down and started eating again with renewed gusto, he felt how much he’d packed away for the first time. He continued eating, though, each bite making him more aware of how heavy his belly was getting.

He powered through the next several bites, until he’d eaten two-thirds of what was on his plate, and then he had to stop.

He leaned back in the bar chair, which was hard to do under the immense weight of his belly. He sighed, a long blustering breath of air, but he still felt too full. When he breathed again, he watched his belly move as if it were slightly separate from his body.

“Fuck,” he whispered, and he heard Amy inhale sharply across the table. He looked up at her. “You okay, there?”

“Mhm,” Amy said, high-pitched voice little more than a squeak. She nodded quickly, and Jake wasn’t sure if she was trying to convince him, or herself, so thoroughly.

Jake laughed, and he felt it reverberate through his belly, and he watched as Amy watched it, too, mesmerized.

“Are you gonna keep eating?” she asked.

Jake belched into his fist. “You betcha. I’m not paying fifty bucks for _one meal._ ”

And so he ate, forking as much of his burrito into his mouth as he could at one time. His belly hurt it was so round, so taut, but he couldn’t pay attention to that. The more he drank of his margarita, the less aware he was of his belly and how full he was. The more he was able to eat.

Amy made it through one of her three enchiladas and two bites of her rice and beans before she gave into the show in front of her. Jake felt the pressure of her eyes on him, remembered the way her hands felt on his hips before and longed to feel it again. The faster he ate, the sooner he’d feel that, though, so he pressed on.

Until the last bite remained, when he was sure he would burst. He leaned back again and groaned.

“You’re so close,” Amy said. He could hear desire in her voice, unbridled lust.

“I know,” he said. He put a hand on his belly, which was now protruding embarrassingly far out onto his lap. “But I literally don’t know if I can fit any more food inside me.”

“Oh, come on,” Amy said, leaning forward to coax him. She lowered her eyes, lowered her voice. “You don’t know how much I want to lean across this table and pick up that fork for you.”

Jake felt a little pang of excitement dart through his belly, though he didn’t know how it fit there amid all the food. “Oh, yeah?”

“If we weren’t sitting in the literal center of this establishment,” Amy said, leaning forward still, “I would still do it.”

Jake inhaled slowly. “Shit.”

Amy leaned back again. “Go ahead. You can do it.”

“Yeah?”

“Hell yeah,” she said. “Plus, if you eat all this now, when we get home, I can really make it worth your while.”

“Oh.”

“Belly rubs, little kisses,” Amy teased. “I’ll take your belt off and unbutton your shirt. I’ll make you feel so nice. But only if you eat it all now.”

Jake’s breathing had already been labored to accommodate his massively swollen stomach, but now he felt it quicken. “Goddamn, Amy.”

She snickered, smiled up at him. “You can do it.”

He leaned forward again in the chair and groaned.

“Come on.”

He picked up the fork.

“There we go, Jakey.”

He put the last bite in his mouth, and then he scraped the rest of the sauce off the plate and into his mouth, and then he dropped the fork in the plate with a clatter.

“We have a winner,” Amy said to him, leaning across the table and standing on the rungs of her bar chair to kiss him. “We have a winner!” she repeated for the crowd.

Someone made Jake smile as they took a picture of him in front of the empty plate. Then they cleared it. The meal was free.

The subway ride was a blur. All Jake could focus on was how heavy his belly was, how weak his knees felt as they walked to his apartment. He noticed that the strain on his shirt buttons was more than twice what it had been when he’d entered the new restaurant. He could practically see his belly through the buttonholes, they were stretched so tight. He didn’t even want to think about how hard his belt was digging into him.

He only vaguely remembered Amy backing him into the wall the second they entered his apartment, her hands going straight for his belly. She ran her hands up the sides of it, to the top button, and then worked her way down, relief bleeding through him with each button undone.

When she went for his belt, he whimpered at the feeling of her hands underneath him, half his moan covered by her mouth as she pulled his belt out from under him, through his belt loops, let it drop to the floor. When she went for the button, she stuck her fingers into the waistband of his pants, and pulled him into his bedroom, where she laid him on his back on the bed and kissed a line down his center, until she undid the button, and let the zipper fly.

“You did so well tonight,” Amy said, climbing her way on top of him. She leaned against his belly, and he let out a little sigh as she did. “I’m proud of you.”

“Yeah,” he said slowly. “That’s right.”

Amy kissed him, ran a hand through his hair. “I am.”

“Good,” he said, and he kissed her back.


End file.
